And This Is True
by OutlawQueenLuvr
Summary: The night is quiet. A gentle breeze blows Regina's hair about her face as she stumbles along the sidewalk toward home. Robin chuckles when she missteps, keeping her upright with his arm held protectively around her shoulder, their laughter ringing through the air. They're drunk, sloshed, giddy with glee, and heading home for an evening of fun.


The night is quiet. A gentle breeze blows Regina's hair about her face as she stumbles along the sidewalk toward home. Robin chuckles when she missteps, keeping her upright with his arm held protectively around her waist.

They've just left Granny's, and it's probably for the best.

Her cheeks are flushed. She feels warm and fuzzy, positively delightful, tingly all over, and if she had to guess, Robin's probably feeling about the same.

She sighs, a breathy little thing as he kisses her temple and pulls her closer to him; she goes willingly for reasons that have nothing to do with the slight chill in the air and everything to do with wanting to be as near to him as possible. Reasons that have her angling her head to breathe him in. He smells like pine, leather, cigar smoke and the lingering scent of Old Spice and sweat from his quick dash to meet her for drinks.

It's beautiful out tonight. The moon is full; the stars are glistening, and she might've commented on it had she not been distracted by the way Robin feels, his arm wrapped around her, keeping her warm, and if she's completely honest, upright.

Regina's hand coasts clumsily up his jacket to grip at his collar, and she's not paying attention to her feet again, not bothering to watch for the lip of the curb as they step off of it to cross the street. She clearly stumbles this time, nearly takes him with her, and Robin laughs. It's full bodied and has her laughing right along with him as he hugs her tighter.

Upright, indeed.

She rests her head on Robin's shoulder as they continue strolling home and she thinks she quite possibly had too much to drink, counting, or trying to count her evening indulgences.

She'd had a glass of Syrah – spicy, a bit of a kick at the back of her throat – and then a second, and caved to a round of shots with Ruby and Emma – fireball whiskey that burned their throats as golden liquid coursed through them and they slammed their shot glasses down on the counter. She'd made a show of it, shouting _Whoop!_, and surprising herself at her enthusiasm.

She'd quickly gone from slightly buzzed to shamelessly flirtatious with Robin while their friends weren't looking. Something she hadn't really done before – open up like that – in public.

But, things are different now, or at least that was what she'd been thinking when he'd come into the diner and grinned upon spotting her sitting in their usual booth.

She'd almost lost him, and Roland. They had almost slipped through her fingers, and she'll be damned if she lets her fears dampen her love again.

No more holding back.

:.:

Robin had been quite amused, watching her smile and laugh and let go and just enjoy herself as the night progressed. For once, that's all they had to do – enjoy themselves. Their sons had been with Mary Margaret and David for the night, probably watching movies and stuffing their faces with buttery popcorn and sugary sweets.

Their only job had been to go out, eat, have a few drinks and relax.

Only.

A few drinks had turned into several rounds.

Scotch for him, wine for her, and then shots thereafter.

Tonight was only ever supposed to be dinner and a couple of drinks at Granny's, but once Emma showed up and came over to say hello, well… a couple of drinks turned into talking about their latest case at the station. The Baker had been booked for a slew of what Emma had been calling "drive by _muffinings_" – eggs, and half-melted sticks of butter, and flour-bombs tossed at parked cars along Main streets – and talking about that had turned into another round of libations. Soon they had been the only ones left, everyone else gone for the evening while they chatted and Robin and Regina leaned against each other in their corner booth.

Regina had been quite the tease, rubbing her hand up and down the length of his thigh beneath the table, her thumb playing with the zipper at the front of his jeans. Emma and Ruby none the wiser to each lazy pass of her fingertips against his slowly hardening cock beneath blue denim.

He'd stilled her hand and gave her a warning look as Emma and Ruby scooted out of the booth to grab two more pints and lock the door while Granny turned in for the night. Emma had offered to refresh Robin's glass of scotch, but he'd refused, too busy concentrating on not groaning, preoccupied with preventing his hips from twitching as Regina's palm rubbed over him again as he leaned a bit more over the table, blocking her hand from view, his pants starting to get just a bit uncomfortable. Shaking his head, Robin had gritted his teeth as she ran her wicked, wicked fingers down the length of him, and then nodded a thanks to Emma as she retreated behind the bar counter.

Out of earshot, he had breathed roughly into Regina's neck, "Don't start something we can't finish, love. You said you wanted to grab a pint of ice cream from the Hop-n-Shop on the way home, remember?"

"Mmm," she'd purred, voice raspy and deep, and continued with, "I think I'd like something else for dessert," cupping him through his jeans, squeezing and earning herself a deep groan passed his lips.

He didn't bother taking his time sipping the rest of his scotch, had downed it in one gulp.

Mistake.

The amber liquid had burned all the way to his belly, but it had taken him seconds to yank his wallet out of his back pocket, pull out a few bills for their tab and help Regina out of the booth, blowing passed Ruby on the way out the door and leaving her with a knowing smirk on her lips.

:.:

They're outside the manor now. Regina's fumbling with the house keys as Robin breathes in the scent of her perfume and nudges his nose against the side of her neck, gripping her hips and drawing her back to his chest.

She's warm, lovely, feels wonderful pressed snugly against him, and God, he loves her, loves every part of her, her deep throaty laugh, the way her brow crinkles when she's frustrated, and oh bloody hell, this – he loves this – the way she's arching her neck, giving him better access and rubbing her glorious arse against his cock. The way a breathy moan passes her lips as he lightly nips at the column of her throat, drags his teeth across her skin as she slowly, torturously sways her hips back and forth, each pass rubbing over the hardening length of him. He growls into her neck and coasts his lips up to that spot behind her ear, the one he knows drives her crazy, makes her squirm in his embrace.

The sound she makes sends a shiver up his spine as a light breeze blows Regina's hair about her face. He nibbles on her earlobe, sucks, licks, and then places open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, to the hinge of her jaw, his tongue tasting her as he goes, leaving a glisten trail upon her skin, and she whimpers, angles her head back to bring their lips together. It's awkward, he can't quite kiss her as deeply as he wants to, but he's not ready to complain, not ready to break contact to adjust, perfectly happy as she reaches up and back and weaves her fingers through his hair. Her nails on his scalp tickle pleasantly and he groans into her mouth as she slips her tongue into his, clutching him to her.

They breathe deeply, between the coming together of lips, panting, tongues tangling and moaning into each other.

He can't get enough her. It isn't enough; it'll never be enough. Each moment, each second a precious gift he's determined to cherish.

He draws gasps of pleasure and little groans from her; they shoot like a steady arrow straight to his cock and he moans, dragging his teeth along her plump, lower lip. She's moving against him now, at a quicker pace, rocking her hips, then grinding back and forth over the hard shaft of his cock. And when did soft touches and teasing turn into them practically dry humping each other on the porch? It's driving him mad, making him grip more firmly to her hips, fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt and kneading, heart beating rapidly within his chest.

Later, he'll blame his randiness on the alcohol, but the truth is, they haven't really been able to keep their hands off each other since the engagement.

Regina moans into his kisses and then gently sucks on his lower lip. Christ, they're not even inside yet, and this wicked, lovely woman seems to be hellbent on making sure they don't cross the threshold. He growls again, breaks their lips apart and she scowls, and God, she's adorable, even when her brow furrows in displeasure.

Though, Regina's frown doesn't last long; he pushes her hair away from her neck again and ravishes her, sucks at her pulse point, relishing in that faint taste of her sweet, vanilla bean body scrub mingling with the saltiness of her skin. She cries out, sharply, when he gives her a little but enthusiastic love-bite, and thank God the boys aren't home tonight, because the sounds she's making, the way she bangs her palm against the door and widens her stance, they're doing things to him, carnal things, naughty things. Things that make him want to spin her around and fuck her against the door, out in the open, for all the world to see.

And it's like a switch goes off in his brain, like his vision clears and all he sees is Regina. With her long hair, and supple curves, and stunning smile.

Then… for a moment, he thinks about what she's done for him, what they've done for each other. He thinks about this second chance they've been given yet again, thinks about how much he loves her. And it hurts, deep in his chest where his heart is beating against his rib cage. It's overwhelming, pricks tears at his eyes and makes it hard for him to breathe.

But breathe he does. Sucking in steady, long pulls of oxygen, he breathes.

She is his paradise, his anchor that brought him back. And because of the cruel manipulations of an Author who felt he had a right to their stories, he'd almost lost her. She'd put herself in danger, consequences be damned, and it had been his hands pressed against a gaping wound in her side that kept her from bleeding out until help had come.

And that… that fills him with this intense need to protect, this urgent desire to keep her safe, to show her she's not as disposable as she thinks she is. He's thinking about their future together, about tomorrow and all the days to come, when she reaches her hand back and tugs him closer to her, presses her arse against him and moans at the feel of him.

And that does it.

That sound, her moaning beneath his touch, makes him skate his hand around and over her belly, makes him grind himself into her and grin as she lets out a little whimper, and then he_does_ spin her.

Fast.

Hard.

Crashes her back against the door and grapples for the keys limply held in her grasp. He tucks them into his jacket pocket and then his hand finds its way back to her hip, squeezes, releases, squeezes, releases and then coasts to the curve of her arse, that wonderful arse that's been teasing him all night long, making him think about all the delicious, devious things he's about to do to her.

Robin captures Regina's breathy sigh in his mouth, and he takes that as encouragement, eases the zipper down at the back of her skirt. He unzips just a few inches, not very far, but far enough that he's able to thumb the edge of her black, lace panties. He knows she's wearing a garter, knows her sheer, black stockings give way to creamy skin and lace beneath her skirt. He watched as she got dressed this morning, fastened the little, garter straps where her hips meet the top of her thighs and smiled at him through the mirror, biting her lip.

Little minx.

It had been then that he started imagining her writhing atop him, his cock buried inside her. Had been then that he'd wanted to kiss her, spread her wide and taste her. And he's not sure if it's that he's thought about her all day while working at the station, or if it's partly the scotch and the shots lowering his inhibitions, but he wants her, really, _really_ wants her.

Now.

It's nearing midnight. The porch light is off, and they're covered in shadow, so he wastes no time in crushing his lips to hers once more before easing her zipper down further and sliding his hand down to palm her arse.

:.:

Regina gasps into his kisses and tilts her head back so it knocks against the door. "Robin," she pants, squirming as he continues to knead her flesh. "What are you doing?" She asks, voice shaky as she sucks in a breath and slams her eyes shut.

Though, that's a question that need not be answered.

It's perfectly clear what he's doing with his fingertips as they brush over her satin underwear. Her eyes flutter open when he groans and touches his forehead to hers. "Gods, Regina. You're so wet, already," he husks, biting his lower lip and grinning mischievously like a child caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, begging her to let him retrieve his treat.

And she is – so wet, sodden and slick to the touch – and his touch, the caress of his fingers between her legs makes her whimper. Makes her clutch at the collar of his jacket as he skims her panties to the side and dips a finger into her from behind, her skirt restricting how much he's able to move, but in no way stifling the heat beginning to build deep in her belly and in between her thighs.

This is reckless, foolish, standing on the porch, letting him… _oh God_… letting him do _that_ with his fingers, letting him trail kisses over her exposed neck again and unbutton her blouse to make way for a roaming hand.

He pushes the cup of her bra to the side and scoops out her breast to graze a thumb over her nipple. It makes her hum, makes her lean into his touch. But his fingers don't linger in one place for too long, doling out pleasure in equal measure to her other breast, and it's not lost on her how awkward this must look. Her skirt slightly tugged down, her bra askew, one of his hands groping her ass and teasing her from behind, the other busy palming her breast while Robin bends his head down to suck her other nipple into his mouth.

His tongue is warm, and teasing in the best kind of way, but she swears if they don't get inside soon… _Oh God_, she's going to let him do more than just… no, they need to go inside. She needs him, needs to get rid of her clothes, and all the layers getting in the way of his mouth, needs him to be naked and– _Oh God, this isn't, this is._

"Robin, in–side– bed– Now," she demands, yanking on the lapels of his coat.

:.:

Regina isn't sure how Robin manages to get the keys out of his pocket and into the keyhole to finally push the door open, but it's somewhere between threading his fingers into her hair and bruising her lips with burning kisses. Somewhere between her skirt beginning to shimmy off her hips, and them tripping over the threshold.

Robin slams the door shut with a kick of his foot and rocks her backward (she turns the lock with a flick of her wrist). They stumble over their feet, pulling at each other's clothes, discarding their jackets haphazardly on the floor in the entryway as they try (and fail) to get up the first few steps into the foyer without falling on their asses. Robin trips once, nearly topples them both, and it's his outstretched arm and moderately quick reflexes that saves them from bruised egos and sore bums. She laughs, hand over her heart, tears at the corners of her eyes, and then her laughter peters out when she spies him looking at her in a way that catches her heart in her throat.

He's grinning like a fool, biting his bottom lip again. Dimples deep and lighting up his face in a way that melts away the ache she felt earlier in the week while visiting Snow to talk about Emma, to see how she's been doing, but tonight she seemed fine, her usual self.

Robin tenderly sweeps her bangs out of her eyes and tucks them behind her ear before kissing her and kissing her again. She guffaws when they finally make it to the second story of the house, divested of everything save for his boxers and her lingerie – a trail of discarded clothing from the front of the door to the top of the stairs. He pauses with her, indulges in a bit of drunken glee, and she has this moment of clarity where she knows she'll need to clean up the house before Henry and Roland get home tomorrow afternoon. But for now – for now – she's just too far gone to even really care. She'll take care of it all tomorrow.

Her palms coasts up his chest, and she wraps her hand around his neck to drag his mouth back down to hers again. "I love you," she whispers, between their parted lips. And when he whispers it back, she can almost taste the scotch lingering on his tongue. It's smokey, reminds her of campfire, and the woods, but mostly it reminds her of him. Reminds her of how she feels when she's with him.

Safe.

:.:

It takes them no time at all to push into their bedroom, the door swinging open and knocking against the wall with a thud. Robin steps into their room first, his hands threaded in her hair, plucking kiss after kiss from her lips and pulling her with him as he draws them toward the bed. She hears it when the back of his knees knock against the mattress, feels it when he slips a hand out of her hair and coasts a calloused palm down her back to unhook her bra, but she stops him.

Taking a step out of his embrace, her lips curve up into a smirk with this half-serious, half-teasing expression. He quirks a brow at her and slumps his shoulders at the loss of contact, and she finds it adorable, decides not to let him pout for long.

Though, she does love knowing how much her touches affect him.

Reaching back, she unhooks her bra and makes a show of easing the straps off her shoulders and letting the garment fall on the floor at her feet. His pupils dilate; he stares at her with a lust-filled gaze and it pleases her immensely. She stands on her tiptoes, chastely kisses his lips, and just as he tries to touch her breasts, she pushes him back so he falls onto the mattress. He bounces a little on impact, and then props himself up on his elbows, smirking at her and her teasing as she saunters over and straddles his lap.

Regina brushes her nose against his, and then nibbles on his lip before kissing him. She grins, hooks her fingers under his boxers, and then shimmies down the bed a bit.

:.:

Her hair is cascading around her face, framing it, and for a moment, it makes him want to weave his fingers through her silky tresses, makes him want to pull her back up his body so he can taste her lips again, nibble at her ear, and suck at her pulse point. But then, she's grinning up at him beneath her lashes, and there's that elusive smile that he loves so much.

His boxers are on the floor, where they belong, her garters unclipped and tossed next to them along with her stockings and lace panties. He'd liked watching her take them off for him, liked watching as she swayed her hips back and forth and tried to make a show of stripping. That had been fun and unexpected and hot, until… well… until Regina had tried to actually take off her stockings. Then what had started as sexy turned into her drunkenly tripping over her own two feet and falling on her arse.

He'd quickly scrambled up to help her, of course, but it wasn't without letting a laugh slip passed his lips.

She'd whacked him on the shoulder as he pulled her up to stand, and then she'd pushed him back against the bed again, with a determined look in her eyes.

He supposes he can thank her resolve for what's happening now.

His fingers are finally threaded in her hair, but gently. He's not pulling, or pushing down on her head as she spits into her palm and then takes him in grasp, wrapping her fingers around him. That first soft pump of her wrist has him groaning, flexing his fingers and then brushing her hair away from her face so he can see her, so he can watch, and God, when did he ever get so lucky?

Regina press a kiss to the tip of him, then smiles up while biting her bottom lip.

Fuck.

And then she slides her lips over the head of his cock, slowly, so painfully slowly, and Christ, does she know what she's doing to him, with these slow, tender touches that have his stomach tensing and him huffing out a breath?

Regina chuckles.

Apparently, she does.

Centimeter by centimeter, she takes more of him into her mouth, bobbing her head up, down, up, down, taking him deeper with each pass. It's a bit awkward at first, until she finds her rhythm, but as soon as she does, he swallows thickly and moans.

She tortures him with broad, flat strokes of her tongue, running it along the underside of his shaft and up to the head of his cock before sucking, and then down again she goes, hollowing out her cheeks, enjoying this just as much as he is.

Bloody fuck, it's glorious, her warm mouth moving around him, taking him in till his tip tap, taps, taps against the back of her throat, while she twists her wrist, lavishing his cock, licking and sucking.

"Regina," he gasps, when she rakes her nails under his balls and then massages there. His hips jerk forward; she makes a gagging sound and he quickly apologizes, feeling poorly about it. Though, not that poorly, because she's shaking her head and mumbling, "_M'okay,_" before taking him into her mouth again and doing something with her tongue that should be criminal.

She hollows out her cheeks again, and they're velvety and smooth against him as he slides in and out of her plump lips.

"Fuck– your mouth– feels so good, Regina. So good," he hisses, struggling to keep his hips from jerking up again as she moves more quickly and does that thing with her tongue between his foreskin a second time.

Robin's hands leave her hair and he fists his hands in their sheets. Regina groans, and it vibrates around his cock, and shit, he's getting too close for comfort, with each new twist of her wrist and swirl of her tongue, she's bringing him up to his peak, and he's not ready yet.

She's groaning around him on every upstroke now, and it's beautiful agony. He wants to be inside her, wants to be buried deep when he comes, wants to feel her clenching around him, but before that happens, _he_ wants to taste _her_.

So he tells her, pulls her up his body as he does so.

And Regina can't find it in herself to complain.

:.:

Robin flips them over, pushing her onto her side and moving her leg so it's stretched out in front of her. Her hair splays out around her head like a halo, and he thinks she's never looked more beautiful than she does right now. Skin glistening under moonlight flickering in through the curtains as he trails wet, opened-mouth kisses down her side to the dip of her waist, over her hip and up the rise of her left cheek.

God, he loves her skin. Creamy and smooth and soft. He nudges the inside of her thigh with his nose and grins when she whimpers, tries to scoot closer to his mouth.

He chuckles, cradles his arm around her leg and lets his elbow curve around her hip to keep her in place. He nips at the inside of her thigh and spreads her a bit for better access, and then he pulls back and lightly, teasingly strokes two fingers through her folds. She's sodden, wetter now than before, and that makes him groan possessively. That makes his cock ache to be inside her already more than it does.

She's panting in anticipation, and not for the first time this evening he's struck by how gorgeous she is, so he tells her so. "You're so lovely, Regina," he whispers, kissing behind the hinge of her right knee to the apex of her thigh and then doing the same to the other, avoiding the place she wants to be touched most. "So beautiful."

And it has her begging, "Robin, please. I want to feel you inside me," trying to shift under his hold, but he's relentless in his teasing, and there isn't friction where he knows she needs it. Still, it makes him pause when she whines, "Stop beating around the bush, already."

He chuckles, gazing at her over the curve of her arse before blowing air teasingly between her legs. "A bit crass for a Queen, don't you think, my love?"

"Oh, shut up and–" her voice hitches when he swipes his fingers through her again, and then rubs circles over her clit.

"Patience, love," he whispers. "I wanna taste you first, watch you come on my tongue."

And so Robin does.

Without preamble or hesitation, he pushes her legs a bit further apart and then drags his tongue through her and up to her clit. She gasps, her hips jerk forward away from his mouth, but he tugs her back to him, and he does it again. Slower. Longer. Groaning with each even stroke and then sucking at the bud of her clit.

He listens, moans as her nails trace against the nape of his neck while he sucks, licks, kisses, between her legs. And he knows when she's getting close, can feel it in the way she's trembling against his ravenous mouth. Can feel it as his hand glides up to palm her breast and caresses a calloused thumb over her nipple, thrumming, and pinching, and plucking as he fucks her with his tongue.

Regina's cheeks begin flushing red, and she's having a harder time staying still. She lets go of his neck, fists her hands in the sheets and then tries to clutch at the headboard for something to hold onto, something to anchor her.

And that's Robin's cue, that's when he shifts her hips, slowly lifts her right leg and rests it on his back so the back of her knee is against the top of his shoulder. His lips and tongue never leave her. He keeps sucking, lapping there, teasing at her entrance but never dipping too far inside with his tongue, wanting to keep her on the edge.

He feels it right before it happens, her first orgasm, and that's when he finally inches two fingers inside her.

They go easily.

She's wet, aroused, slick from his spit, so he pump, pumps, pumps, slowly, while continuing to suck on her clit, swirling his tongue around and around. But the pace isn't enough to quite get her there, so he moves his fingers faster, his wet palm slapping against her wet skin. It makes her cry out, makes her back arch off the mattress, so he keeps rocking his wrist back and forth, pumping his fingers faster and faster.

God, she's lovely, legs trembling, body shaking as she tosses her head from side to side. He moves his fingers in a come hither motion, and knows she could take another, so he pulls out and adds a third. It has her writhing, has her fisting her hands in her hair, then groping her breasts, her nipples peaked and sensitive.

_Fuck_, he thinks, his cock throbbing, twitching in anticipation to be inside her.

He moves his fingers faster, gives her clit another gentle suck, then harder, and…

A strangled gasp careens out of her mouth, and she practically claws at his hand to stop, pushes his mouth away from her, panting, crying, coming and coming and coming, and shaking all over.

He's ready now, achingly ready to be inside her.

But he gives her a moment to catch her breath, gives her body a chance to stop trembling.

He pushes himself up, sits back on his heels, between her legs and gives himself a few lazy strokes, cock throbbing in his palm. He rubs the inside of her thigh reassuringly, soothes her with words of affection, but even that small touch is too much, has a slight tremor coursing up her spine and her thighs snapping closed, her belly spasming as she tries to breathe through the aftershocks of orgasm.

It's not long before Regina tugs him toward her.

:.:

Robin runs his hands up and down her legs, to her belly, and then helps her draw her knees toward her chest. She spreads them wide for him and he torturously guides himself into her slowly.

It makes her gasp, twitch as the head of his cock slides in a few centimeters before he pulls out of her. She's still sensitive, still reeling from waves of pleasure as she tilts her head back, grabs onto his thighs, squeezes there as he slides his hands up across her stomach and begins thrusting in and then out, in and then out, in languid pumps.

Each time he fills her more deeply, goes a little bit quicker, hits against that sensitive spot inside her, and she's already keyed up, already silently gasping, her lips parted as she tries to remember to breathe. He feels exquisite, strong and full inside her. Each thrust of his pelvis, each knock of his cock up and over her g-spot has her toes curling, has her panting, whispering, "Plea–se yes, yes, please," and tightening her grip on his knees.

A familiar tremble begins in her legs, her mouth drops open even wider, and each huff of breath comes out in a sharp exhale.

"Oh God, pleasepleaseplease," she whimpers. So close. He's already brought her to the edge twice, and this is… this is too much. "Robin– so close, please."

Sweat beads on her skin, glistening. Tears run faint, mascara rivers down her cheeks, and she wants to close her eyes, wants to arch her back and hold onto the bed frame behind her again, but Regina also doesn't want to let go of Robin. She doesn't want to break eye contact.

There's something about this, something different.

It started with shots and scotch and wine. But she's not drunk anymore, her head isn't fuzzy, and the warmth she feels now, the way her eyes are mirroring his unshed tears… it isn't just because of the sex. Though, _oh God, this, this is amazing,_ but it's also more.

It's love. It's just them.

She groans harshly, and Robin coasts his hands up to her breasts, leans over her to capture her lips in a searing kiss. His pace picks up with each thrust, faster and faster, harder and harder.

And there comes a point where the pleasure sucker punches her in the chest, where each thrust has her screaming out, has her letting go of his thighs to grasp at his hands.

She's coming, and coming, and oh God, she loves him. So much. So so much. Loves all of him. His smile, those dimples, his tongue and his cock. Every part of him.

Robin doesn't let up, keeps pumping inside her, taking her over the edge until the pleasure is too much. Until she's a whimpering, mess beneath him, clutching at his arm, nails biting into his skin.

She cries out his name one more time as he grunts, bites his bottom lip until he tastes blood and comes inside her. And then they go boneless together, Robin pulling Regina into his arms while they catch their breath and try to fill their lungs with air.

Minutes later, they're still naked, satiated, holding onto each other, kissing beneath the faint moonlight glow. She smiles into his kisses, bumps her forehead against his, gently, and he tucks a strand of sex-touseled hair behind her ear, gazing into her eyes.

"I love you," he whispers.

This is better. This she can handle. Being here with him like this, breaths evening out and syncing together as her eyelids begin to get heavy.

"I love you, too," she whispers right back.

They have a chance now, a real chance.

They're stronger.

This she'll take. This she'll keep.

Flaws and all.


End file.
